


Comfort Food

by romanticalgirl



Category: Brothers & Sisters
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-19
Updated: 2013-04-19
Packaged: 2017-12-08 22:10:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/766596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There's an art to making sandwiches</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort Food

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://inlovewithnight.livejournal.com/)**inlovewithnight** for the beta
> 
> Originally posted 5-19-07

Like everything else in life, there’s an art to making a good sandwich.

It was one of the first lessons Nora ever taught Kevin in her kitchen. He’d sit on the stool on the opposite side of the counter and watch as she made lunches for everyone – Sarah was in her environmental and health conscious phase ( _“God, Nora, how’d I raise a hippie?” Dad used to say_ ), so everything was fruit and whole grain bread and dolphin free tuna and carrot sticks. Kitty was Republican through and through, so it was bologna and cheese on white bread with mayo, a bag of Ruffles, and a fruit cup. Tommy had three sandwiches, bologna, ham and turkey, all on white with mayo and mustard and lettuce and pickles, no tomato. A bag of chips and a Hostess snack cake and a cup of pudding. Kevin got peanut butter and jelly – peanut butter on one slice of bread, jelly on the other (always grape, had to be grape), crusts cut off. A bag of potato chips that he would inevitably end up dumping between the two slices of bread and crunching into the middle of his sandwich, and a bag of homemade cookies. – and she’d tell him why everyone got what they got and how to make it.

Kevin remembers snippets of the conversations, and he’s not sure that they _were_ conversations so much as her talking to herself, reminding herself that her children ruled the roost with their demands, even if she was ostensibly the one in control. He thinks about them now as he builds his sandwich, standing on his mother’s side of the counter, listening to Justin talk about his day.

There aren’t many days like this left, Kevin realizes, as he lays down two thick dill pickle slices on the layer of turkey (not directly on the bread, as they’ll make it too soggy). Justin will go to war again and come back a little bit more different than he is now, which is already significantly different than he ever was before.

Justin mentions little things, laughing about this girl he saw in the park and her three kids, all clamoring for her attention, and Justin asks if that’s how it was when Kevin was little, and Kevin tries to remember those moments when it was all perfectly organized chaos. He lays down the cheese, Havarti with the turkey, and nods, telling Justin about one time when they went to the beach and Dad wasn’t there - _don’t think about where he might have been_ \- and Sarah was trying to teach Kitty how to swim and Tommy was spinning Kevin around as fast as he could and then hurling Kevin toward the waves. Justin cracks up and reaches over, stealing a pickle slice and crunching on it as Kevin lays down a layer of roast beef.

Kitty comes in and steals a slice of cheddar off the cutting board, wrapping it up in a leaf of lettuce as she heads to the fridge to snag a cold drink. She reminds Kevin of a time when he was still in diapers and they went to the park and he wandered off, and they found him in some hole in the base of a tree covered in mud and bugs and, she’s pretty sure it was the last time she _ever_ saw Kevin dirty.

Justin asks about pictures and Kitty disappears again, no doubt to the study where their mom has stored away all the photo albums, tossing Dad’s business books into boxes and hiding them away until she thinks it’s safe to give them to Tommy. Kevin lays down the Gouda and spreads a minor amount of horseradish on the cheese covering it with more roast beef.

Kitty comes back with Sarah in tow and they thumb through the photo albums, telling stories and laughing. Justin watches the pictures with haunted eyes, and Kevin wonders what he must be thinking, feeling. It’s easy to say it’ll be all right, and he’ll come home, but Kevin’s far more practical than the rest of his family, so he knows he can’t say any of those things. Justin is the one member of the family that prefers promises he knows can be kept.

Justin takes a photo now and then, tucking it carefully into his shirt pocket while Sarah and Kitty argue over who remembers what and who remembers correctly. Kevin lays down the ham and cheddar, the lettuce and tomato. He starts the next one, tuna on rye with light mayo and light mustard, lettuce and tomato with extra pickles. Justin reaches over and swipes his finger along the edge – salt and pepper and mayonnaise and pickles, always pickles – and smiles at Kevin.

Kevin’s noticed the pictures. Sarah holding Justin when he was first born. His face was blotchy and red and she was tall and tanned and completely unaware of the dark hickey on her neck. Kitty caught in the act of throwing a water balloon at Sarah and her boyfriend, the look on her face one that prompted Kitty to try to steal the picture every time the album was brought out. Tommy with Justin on his shoulders, both of them dressed in matching baseball uniforms. Justin in his Boy Scout uniform, completely disheveled, standing next to Mom and holding up the first fish he ever caught. Justin and Dad with rifles on their shoulders and mud and blood on their boots, coming home from their first kill. There are memories with each one, piled high with embellishments and retellings until the truth is really just an idea buried beneath all the history they’ve added on.

Kevin finishes the sandwiches and pushes two across to Justin to take in to Nora and Julia, both so busy with Elizabeth that they can’t come in to eat. He waits until Justin’s gone then slides the remaining two in front of Kitty and Sarah, both too busy to say thank you or even notice that the sandwiches are right, exactly how they like them, exactly how they’re supposed to be.

Justin comes in and frowns at Kevin. The meat and condiments are put away, the board in front of Kevin clean. Justin starts to open his mouth and say something, stopping when Kevin goes into the pantry and comes back with a loaf of white bread and peanut butter, snagging the grape jelly from the fridge. Justin smiles at him and comes around the counter, standing next to Kevin and taking the peanut butter, scooping nearly half the jar onto his knife and then spreading it on to two slices of bread.

Kevin copies his motions with the jelly, piling it thick and sloppy on the bread, leaving large globs of the deep purple scattered across the surface, not even bothering to try to spread it around. Justin shakes his head and goes into the pantry himself, bringing back a bag of potato chips, opening it and just pouring a pile onto each sandwich. Kevin laughs and slaps the jellied slice onto the top of the pile, crunching his own down while Justin does the same. He watches Justin take a bite – whatever else they didn’t agree on or see eye to eye or understand each other, they were always the same when it came to this – and then reaches over and tugs the photos from Justin’s shirt.

The top one is one of Kevin, sitting across from an unseen Nora, watching her make sandwiches like he did every night. And there, at Kevin’s feet, looking at him with the same kind of admiration and amazement that’s in Kevin’s eyes, is Justin.

“You make a mean sandwich, Kevin,” Justin whispers.

“Yeah? Well.” Kevin blinks back emotion and bumps his brother’s shoulder with his own. “Well, when you come home, I’ll show you how.”  



End file.
